“And you will only get out of here somewhat intact if you tell us why.”

“I don’t know Hoffmann very well. But I know Rasmus.”

“Who the fuck is Rasmus?”

“Hoffmann’s youngest son. He wanted to figure something out. Which one of you put the grenade in his backpack. He didn’t like that.”

The last glance.

There it was. The signal.

To attack.

And it was the security guard on Hoffmann’s left side who should make the first move. He was going to start beating information out of their flabby visitor. A blow to the kidney. So he’d collapse onto the floor and they’d drag him up again and ask the same question. Until he answered.

But the attack never happened.

Because the flabby man suddenly pulled out a gun. And fired. Twice, once into each kneecap. The attacker fell forward, headlong. Hoffmann spun around, pointing the gun at his colleague instead.

“Your friend never answered Rasmus’s question. Which one of you put that grenade in his backpack.”

Surprise.

That was the most salient expression on the security guard’s face.

“And who put it on top of the Manchester United pen case. He really didn’t like that. Tell me . . . who?”

It took a moment. Until the silent security guard could stay silent no longer. He pointed to his suffering friend on the floor.

“Him.”

“Him—what?”

“He did it. He dropped off the hand grenade.”

The next two shots hit more to the side of the kneecaps. Now the other security guard fell forward, toward Hoffmann, who had taken a step closer to the desk to avoid having the body fall onto him.

Then everything got so quiet. Not in the room. But inside him.

Because there was no choice. That’s when it never felt like much to hurt someone.

He had even been prepared to kill.

They’d talked so much about it in recent years, he and Zofia. About being human. Remaining human. Zofia, who feared his ability to feel became less every day he spent with violence. A worry that he himself had pushed away. Where is my limit? When I’ve pushed it too far—will I still be myself? Mostly they’d talked about this—giving yourself the right to destroy someone else, maybe even their lives, in order to survive.

And they never arrived at an answer.